Читать книгу Hot Holiday Rancher - Catherine Mann - Страница 11
ОглавлениеToying with her seat belt and not in any hurry to leave the truck just yet, Esme waited for Jesse’s answer, more curious than she would have liked to admit about what mystery woman he was expecting. Even knowing that cowboys weren’t her type, she couldn’t deny the appeal of those piercing green eyes.
He cocked an eyebrow as he reached for his Stetson. “I certainly didn’t think you were one of the infamous Perry family.”
She bristled at the censure in his voice. “Infamous?” she repeated, the bubble of romance officially burst. She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle. “That’s rather harsh, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” he said as his boots hit the pristine cement floor of his six-car garage with a solid thud. “Your father was investigated on fraud charges and the murder of a Perry Holdings assistant not too long ago.”
Vincent Hamm had gone missing, the assistant presumed to have quit and moved to the British Virgin Islands to spend his life surfing, based on a text he’d sent his boss. But then his body had been discovered with a bullet wound to the chest, his skull bashed, making identification difficult. But DNA tests had confirmed the man’s identity.
Esme slammed the door, the sound reverberating in the dimly lit space. Her damp and muddy feet slipped ever so slightly as she charged forward alongside a speedboat, her toes still so icy cold, her mangled shoes dangling from her hand. An SUV, a motorcycle and a pair of four-wheelers filled the rest of the space. The man sure liked his toys.
Or maybe his family did?
She glanced at his left hand as he tapped the security code at the door leading into the house. No ring. But then, there was still the mystery woman.
Esme pulled her focus back to her reason for being here. To clean up her father’s image among the Texas Cattleman’s Club members here in Royal.
“My father was cleared of fraud and the murder of Vincent Hamm.” All hell had broken loose when the body was found at the site of the new Texas Cattleman’s Club, where her father’s construction company was doing the renovations. The murderer still hadn’t been found. “As I recall, you were under suspicion, too, after leaving an angry message on Hamm’s voice mail.”
“Valid point.” He waved her inside with a broad hand, his square jaw flexing. “Lucky for me, I have an airtight alibi.”
While he turned on the lights, she flung her damp hair over her shoulders and unbuttoned her trench coat. “Clearly there’s something more you want to say?”
Texas landscapes lined the walls of the corridor, one end leading to a washroom and the other leading into the house. He eyed her for a moment, sizing her up before nodding tightly. “Your father has led a cutthroat life in the business world. Sterling Perry may not be guilty of this, but the man he has been made it easier to believe it could be him.”
She couldn’t deny the truth in that. But that was still her daddy Jesse was talking about. “You certainly know how to win friends and influence people.”
Sighing, he swept off his hat. “Ma’am, you’re clearly tired. I’ll make you something to drink—decaf coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?”
She was exhausted. But she had a narrow window of time. If she kept bristling this way, she would lose the chance to plead her father’s case to be the president of the Houston branch of the club. It was tough enough already with all the politics back home, given the other contender for the position was his longtime rival, Ryder Currin, who her father felt had unjustly gotten an oil-rich piece of land that should have stayed in the family. It didn’t seem to matter to Sterling that he already had more money than royalty and that Ryder had made the bulk of his fortune through savvy investments.
Although they had to get along these days since Ryder was seeing her sister Angela, that didn’t change the fact that her dad wanted the position. And Angela would have to live with that, because Esme intended to make this happen for her father.
“Hot chocolate, please, if it’s not too much trouble.” It sounded like something that would take longer to make. Give her more time to collect herself. Mold herself into the perfect influencer. “And no worries. I’m thick-skinned like my father.”
A fib. She actually was the most sensitive of her siblings, but that would smooth things over for now.
As the sensitive sibling, she’d learned early how to play family peacekeeper. To de-escalate tension and defuse situations—even though her heart often thudded loudly in her chest and panic rose in her blood.
With footfalls uncharacteristically silent for such a tall, broad-chested man, he moved into the laundry room. Light flickered on, and Esme peered inside the well-kept pale yellow room with green plant accents. He pulled clothes out of a basket on top of the dryer, then strode with cowboy swagger back to her. He motioned down the hallway. Sconces on the wall provided a warm light as they made their way to the massive kitchen. He placed the neatly folded clothes on the island.
With a surveying glance, she took in the open, sprawling layout. White granite countertops provided a sleek contrast to the dark wood cabinets. Open shelves displayed simple white dishes and mugs. A countertop overlooked a large bay window that, despite the night storm raging outside, offered an enviable view of the large barn and fence. Unlike the interior of the house, the barn and fence sported twinkling Christmas lights.
A thick but unfinished sandwich took up the majority of a white plate on the countertop. He must have been eating there when he’d spotted her car outside.
Jesse’s rough-cut smile lit up his green eyes. “Good, I’m glad to hear you’re tough. If we’re going to be trapped here together until the road’s cleared, it will be easier if we get along.”
Trapped? Now, that sounded promising.
“True enough.” She slid off her trench coat.
The room went silent as his eyes flickered with awareness, taking in her damp blouse and slacks. Her chilled skin warmed at his gaze.
Then he looked away, clearing his throat as he picked up a remote control off the island and thumbed on the sound system. Holiday tunes played softly, jazz renditions. That surprised her. She would have expected him to pick country music.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he walked over to the double wooden doors of his pantry. Intricately carved, the wood depicted a rearing horse on a landscape. It was a touch of personality in this state-of-the-art kitchen that was otherwise pretty much devoid of personality. He removed a bag of marshmallows and a mason jar filled with hot chocolate mix and set them on the counter. He pulled out milk from the fridge.
“Well, then, Esme, let’s agree not to talk about your father.” He spun a pan in his hand, setting it down on the front right burner.
Not discussing her dad was rather counterproductive to her reason for braving the storm to see him. But she wasn’t going to argue with him. She would work her way back to the subject when the opportunity arose.
“Fair enough.” And while she waited, she couldn’t resist asking, “Let’s start with who you were expecting.”
“Actually, three someones.” The milk simmered on the gas stove.
He reached up to the open shelves, selecting an oversize mug. His hands were calloused and capable, telling a story. He didn’t just own this massive spread. He worked it.
Surprise lit through her. “Three people you didn’t know and wouldn’t recognize?”
So…mystery women. What was this man up to?
Jesse had maneuvered to a well-stocked bar next to the stainless steel fridge. She noticed a sole picture beside it—of a girl in her twenties who shared his intense green eyes. A sibling perhaps? It was the first—and only—sign of personal effects she’d spotted since entering his ranch house/mansion. A private man, then.
He held up a bottle of peppermint schnapps and quirked an inquiring eyebrow. She nodded and he set the bottle on the counter beside the rest of the ingredients.
“In my defense, Esme, it was dark when I found you and you were—are drenched. Speaking of which, you should change before you catch a cold. Your hot chocolate will be ready soon.” He stood toe to toe, the spicy and damp scent of him teasing her senses. He passed over the stack of clothes—sweats, a tee and socks—his calloused knuckles brushing hers. “I’ll tell you all about the three mystery women when you get back.”
Her hands still tingling from the light touch, she sure hoped her father appreciated her efforts here. Because she suspected focus on her task was going to be tough to come by with Jesse Stevens.
She wasn’t even one day into this promotional excursion and already she’d made a mess of things. One that not even the longest, steamiest of showers could make right.
Esme was no stranger to luxury, but she still appreciated the plush robe and heated floors in the guest bathroom he led her to.
An all-Texas bathroom for sure, with a touch of modern rustic charm in the form of the polished horns on the wall opposite the luxurious Jacuzzi. But there was also a large tinted window that offered a view of the Christmas lights lining the fence. The only other lights came from a bunkhouse in the distance.
Under this roof, she was alone. With Jesse Stevens.
Exhaling hard, she plucked one of the lotions from the basket on the counter. She opened the top and inhaled the delicious scent of peppermint, which reminded her of that spiked cocoa waiting for her. Along with the man.
Smoothing the lotion onto her legs, she found her thoughts drifting back to Jesse. His broad shoulders. His blond hair spiked and mussed. Her skin tingled from more than the minty cream.
She’d never doubted her professionalism. Her cool head. And while she worked for the family company, she’d allowed this to become too personal. This wasn’t even about the business. This was about her father’s quest to be the president of a club. Which many would have thought meant she was doing a favor, not a job.
Many would be wrong. This was more than a favor. She was trying to earn her dad’s approval. Even knowing that shouldn’t matter so much to her, an adult woman, she couldn’t dodge the truth.
She risked a glance in the mirror. With her hair wet and snarled, she was a mess. A far cry from how she’d started the morning with a spa day. Even her manicure hadn’t survived, one nail broken and two others chipped.
It was almost comical, really, as if all her professional facade had been wiped away. Her slacks were ruined. Her silk blouse very likely unsalvageable, too.
All that was left of the real her were her champagne-colored satin underwear and her diamond stud earrings.
At least she had something to wear other than the robe. She stepped into the baggy sweatpants, then the Texas A&M pullover, the fabric warm and tantalizing against her bare skin. She tugged on the athletic socks, bunching them around her ankles. A far cry from the heels she’d slipped on this morning with such relish. But as least she was warm. And clean.
She left the steam-filled bathroom and returned to her suite. Swiping her phone from the coffee table, she dropped down into the desk chair next to the fireplace. Stones flanked the fireplace, giving the guest suite the feel of a swanky cabin. Her toes sank into the plush rug as she FaceTimed her sister.
Of all of her siblings, Angela Perry worried the most. And judging by the four texts Esme had received while she was showering, her sister was imagining every worst-case scenario.
She propped the phone against a leather-bound book on the desk to free her hands to brush through the rat’s nest that had replaced her hair.
Within a few rings, her sister’s blond hair and rounded face came into view. Angela sat on the ground in front of the new gas fireplace she’d just had installed, flames flickering. Orchestral carols played softly in the background.
“Well, hello there.” Angela stared back at her, her blue eyes flaring in surprise. “You look…not like yourself. No offense meant.”
“None taken.” Running the brush through a knot in her hair, Esme laughed lightly. Her sister had never been a clotheshorse, preferring an understated style. A love of fashion had been at least one thing Esme could share with Melinda, since Angela and her twin had just about everything else in common.
They even lived in the same condominium building—an upscale thirty-two-floor limestone high-rise with wraparound windows and expansive views. The twins had even chosen the same layout, Angela on the fifteenth floor and Melinda on the twenty-fourth.
“Well, this has been quite a day. Or night, rather.”
Angela tossed a scrap of Christmas wrapping paper into the fire behind her, then reached for another roll. “Definitely not the image of my glamorous sister.”
“Stranger things have happened.” But heat still stung her cheeks. One of the ways Esme gained her confidence—and kept her sensitive soul in check—was through a careful curation of makeup, hair and luxurious clothes. The oversize sweats she was wearing rattled her. Threw her off-balance.
Though, if she were being honest, not any more than her sexy host.
Her sister’s thin fingers moved deftly over a small stack of jewelry boxes with elegant silver script reading “Diamonds in the Rough.” Esme guessed the packages were for her and Melinda, not that she could see inside. Most likely Melinda’s contained something to celebrate her baby on the way. The pregnancy had been a surprise to Melinda and her new husband, Slade, but a welcome one. And pregnancy hadn’t slowed down her sister’s philanthropic works one bit.
To her right, Angela had a bin filled with gold and red foil paper with intricate bows. Designer-level gift-wrapping supplies. A small stack of already-wrapped presents glistened in the fire glow. Esme always told her sister they could afford to pay someone to wrap the gifts for them, but Angela insisted she enjoyed doing it herself, making each one a work of art.
And Christmas was all the more special since Angela had reunited with her former fiancé, Ryder Currin.
Angela ripped clear tape off to secure the golden foil on one of the smaller jewelry boxes. “I’m glad you called. I was starting to get worried. Weather reports are looking terrible in Royal.”
Esme thought of the soaked, muddy clothes she had carefully placed in a bag next to the bathtub. She winced a little. “The reports are accurate.”
“But you’re okay?” her sister asked, genuine worry in her voice.
She nodded, enjoying the soft sounds of violins surging through “Ave Maria.”
“I got caught in a flash flood, but lucky for me, I was close to Stevens’s ranch. He saw my headlights and came to my rescue.”
“Sounds like a close call. I can’t imagine your low-slung car held up well in those conditions.”
“You can get the judgy tone out of your voice. I know you weren’t a fan of my purchase.” Esme worked the last of the tangles from her hair, smoothing the brush down the length until she was satisfied that all the knots were out. At least she’d managed to restore some semblance of order in her life.
“It’s your money to do with as you please,” her sister said as she reached toward a stack of unwrapped presents. Picking up a handsome brass shaving kit, she started sizing up the necessary material to wrap it.
“Well, you can rest easy. My next purchase will come with four-wheel drive.” Sporty four-wheel drive.
Angela set down the paper and peered into the screen, her blue eyes fixed but still kind. The look of an older sister. “I just care about you.”
“I know.” It was tough to discard the defensiveness sometimes, feeling like an outsider with her sisters’ twin bond. “And thank you for caring.”
Her sister nodded, continuing her methodical wrapping. Without looking up from lining up the edge of the paper with machinelike precision, she said, “So, what’s the progress with Jesse Stevens?”
“I’ve barely had time to shower, much less make progress.”
“Shower?” She raised a blond eyebrow. “At Jesse Stevens’s house? You’re there now?”
“Yes, and no need to sound scandalized. I was drenched. I needed to change.” She glanced down at her clothes. When was the last time she’d worn sweats? High school maybe. Or middle school. As rarely as she could manage. “But enough about me. How was your date with Ryder last night?”
Her sister had been engaged to none other than their father’s longtime nemesis Ryder Currin, who also happened to be in the running to head the Houston branch of the Texas Cattleman’s Club. Angela and Ryder had broken up, but were now back together again with Sterling Perry’s blessing. Esme would wager money a reengagement wasn’t too far off.
She just hoped Ryder was really right for her sister. He’d been married twice before—divorced from the first wife and widowed by the second. He had one child from each of those marriages, plus an adopted daughter. All adults. Such a complicated blended family.
Angela deserved to have a man love her unconditionally.
“I never thought he and I would have another chance, but things are good, really good.”
Her blue eyes turned wistful and the smile that warmed her face drew a pang of guilt from Esme over her doubts and concerns.
“I wish I could have been there for us to talk all about it in person over lunch.”
Angela nodded, her smile still present but soft. “That would have been fun, but I understand.”
Her sister leaned back to the pile of gifts—a cashmere scarf, leather-bound books, artisanal reclaimed-wood trays. The silver strands in her chunky gray sweater glimmered.
Christmas was coming at the end of the month and Esme hadn’t even begun her shopping. She wished she had her sister’s love for organization and gift-giving. Maybe then she would feel more connected to the holiday. “If only I’d waited to leave…”
“Dad appreciates what you’re doing for him. This is important.”
Was it, though? More important than being with her sister? She’d tried to convince her dad that this could wait a couple of days, but he’d insisted. And she hadn’t stood up to him. She’d even had the weather as an excuse and she hadn’t taken it.
“Well, I’ll be back in Houston before you know it. We can have brunch and chat over mimosas.”
“That would great. Just let me know when you’re finished there and I’ll line it up with Melinda, too. We’ll definitely need to make it brunch and not breakfast, since Melinda still gets morning sickness.” She chewed her fingernail thoughtfully, then added, “Perhaps we could include Tatiana, as well, if you don’t mind.”
Esme bit her lip to keep from blurting how she wanted to do things on her own with Angela, without their sister, much less Angela’s bestie, Tatiana Havery.
Tatiana, a vice president at Perry Holdings who specialized in real estate, had been going through a tough time ever since it came out that Willem Inwood was her estranged half brother. And now that he’d been arrested last week? It would be petty to exclude her.
“Mimosa brunch with you, Melinda and Tatiana. Count on it. Maybe we should invite Ryder’s two daughters. I could get to know my future nieces better.” She chuckled at the irony of that, since Ryder’s daughters were both adults. There was an age gap between Ryder and Angela, but since her sister didn’t mind, then who was Esme to judge?
“Okay, then. I will.” Angela fluffed her golden-blond hair, surveying the mess of ribbon and foil paper strips around her. “All right, sis, I need to clean up this mess. Thank you for checking in. Please stay in touch.”
“I will, just as soon as I have something to report.” Esme waved before signing off.
Sighing, she swept her hair into a loose topknot. Casual glam, she told herself.
Time to face her sexy host and try not to wonder if a kiss from him would taste of peppermint schnapps.
Jesse stared out the kitchen window at the water pooling outside, covering the driveway. As the storm continued to rage, he was glad he’d reached Esme when he did.
No denying it, the woman who’d crashed into his life this evening had made quite an impression. He thought about the way her wet clothes clung to her, outlined her shapely body.
Not that she was his type. Too city. Too polished for a ranch lifestyle. Not that it mattered. He had three potential matches coming to the ranch.
Still, his thoughts drifted to the way her wet hair fell in waves. No. He couldn’t deny being intrigued by the woman who was currently cleaning herself up in his shower as the rain pelted down.
In the oversize mug, he stirred the hot chocolate. The mug in his hand had been a gift from his little sister. She’d made it in a pottery class, rightly guessing that something homemade would mean more to him. He could buy anything he wanted.
His sister had a knack. The pottery was expertly crafted. She’d called it part of her robin’s-egg collection.
He wasn’t an overly sentimental man, and even though he and his sister weren’t close, this mug represented his last link to family. To something grounding.
After giving the hot chocolate a final stir, he popped the top of the peppermint schnapps, deciding Esme should be the judge of her alcohol level. He didn’t want to pour too much. Who knew what her alcohol tolerance was? And he wasn’t one to take advantage. He prided himself on being a man of honor.
And he needed to stay focused on his search for a bride, someone who wanted to share this lifestyle with him and build a family.
He turned back to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee with a shot of whiskey in it. Then settled onto a barstool at the kitchen island where his half-eaten sandwich still waited. Fried steak between two thick slices of Texas toast. He took another bite and washed it down with his spiked coffee, the taste firing through his veins on this damn long day.
As he continued to eat his sandwich to the rhythm of rain and thunder, he reflected on the events of the last hour. Now he regretted calling Esme’s family “infamous.” The word had a crueler inflection than he had meant. Especially since Esme’s father was no longer a suspect in the murder. He understood too well what it felt like to be wrongly accused.
Tearing into another bite of his sandwich, he went over the events of the murder investigation in his mind.
He’d been shocked when he was questioned by keen Houston detective Zoe Warren. All because of an argument he’d had with Vincent Hamm. Someone he’d thought he could count on. His kid sister just graduated with an MBA from one of the top programs in the country. Not only was she his sister and he had a strong sense of family, but his sister was also brilliant, with a sharp mind for business. Jesse had asked Vincent to help get his sister in at Perry Holdings. But Vincent refused to even set up an interview for Janet.
Jesse took another sip of his coffee, still trying to understand why, despite all the favors Jesse had done for him, Vincent wouldn’t lift a finger to help.
Rage had filled him. He’d believed the worst of his friend. That a big-city job with a fancy salary at Perry Holdings had gone to Vincent’s head. That he’d forgotten who he was. Jesse had responded with anger.
And then, a few weeks after their strange encounter, Vincent Hamm was dead. And not just dead—murdered.
A brief angry voice mail from Jesse to Vincent had turned up in the authorities’ investigation. A handful of words. Crazy. But Jesse, ever a rule follower and ever meticulous, had a solid alibi. He’d been three hours away at a cattle auction. His location south of Houston was certifiable, easily tracked through his purchase records and through his hotel visit. Nearly all his time was accounted for. There was no feasible way he could have been the murderer. As a law-abiding man, he’d voluntarily submitted to a lie detector test, which he’d passed. He wanted Vincent’s actual killer to be found. Sooner rather than later.
He thumped the edge of his own mug, heat transferring ever so slightly from the ceramic to his fingertips.
Jesse’s attention returned to the present as he heard the creak of the guest suite door and soft footfalls on the hardwood floor. Then there she was. Esme Perry.
He stood slowly. Damn.
The mug was no longer the only thing throwing heat in the kitchen.
Esme walked deeper into the kitchen, looking too damn sexy in his Texas A&M sweats. Even wearing his athletic socks bunched down around her ankles, she somehow made it all work into an elegant ensemble right down to her diamond stud earrings.
“Well, Miss Esme, you are definitely unmistakable now,” he said, nudging her mug and the bottle of schnapps toward her.
“It’s nice to be dry again.” She gestured to her wet hair. “At least somewhat.” She poured some of the liquor into the mug, stirred thoughtfully. Almost absently.
She lifted the mug to her lips, and he found himself unable to look away, imagining how soft they would be.
“I’m glad to help.” He waited for her to sit before reclaiming his place on the barstool. “Did you reach home to let them know you’re okay?”
“I did. Just now. I called my sister Angela. We were talking about plans to meet for brunch.” Her delicate nose scrunched with worry. “We haven’t had much time to talk lately since she got back together with Ryder.”
Everyone in Royal had been blown away at the news when Angela and Ryder had gotten engaged. A Perry and a Currin? Unimaginable. Then they had broken things off, and now were apparently a couple again.
Jesse shook his head. He wanted something more stable in his life. “You and she are close?”
She hesitated for a telling moment. “Angela and Melinda are twins. Then I have a brother, Roarke. We all love one another.”
He’d heard the gossip that Roarke was rumored to be Ryder Currin’s biological son, rumors so strong they’d taken a DNA test. A test that proved Roarke truly was a Perry. Still, the whole ordeal must have put a strain on their family. “That’s not the same as being close.”
“The twins are close, and our brother has always gone his own way. He’s happy, though, working at Perry Holdings in Houston in a newly formed ethics department. He still does part-time work offering legal, too.”
“He sounds like quite the crusading attorney for the underdog. I imagine you’re proud of him.”
“I am. It wasn’t easy for him to find his own path. He and Dad butt heads because our father expected Roarke to go into the family business. But that’s enough of our family drama.” She shrugged, her hair rippling over her shoulder in a blond waterfall. “So you have siblings?”
Her eyes flickered to the photograph tucked on the marble countertop.
Esme was observant. He’d give her that.
“I have a sister. She’s all the family I have left, actually. I thought I was going to lose her not too long ago. Her appendix ruptured and she had to have emergency surgery.”
Hospital runs and the smell of antiseptic filled his memory. The bargaining and praying for his sister’s life he’d done were still a visceral memory in his stomach.
“I’m so sorry. Is she all right now?”
“She is.” He looked at the mug in Esme’s hand, thankful for his sister’s recovery.
“Thank goodness. Still, that had to have been a scary time for you.”
“It was.”
Rain continued to fall outside, filling the pause with controlled chaos.
She looked into her mug, swirling the hot chocolate around without meeting his gaze. “Actually, you weren’t wrong. My sisters have a special bond. My brother, well, his earlier move to Dallas wasn’t all that surprising. Now that he’s back, that seems to be changing some. Regardless, I’m still stuck somewhere in the middle. But that’s all right. Not everyone has the same relationship.”
“You don’t sound like it’s okay.”
She raised an eyebrow in surprise, then took another sip of the hot chocolate as she leaned on the granite countertop. She spread her fingers out wide as if soaking in the cool texture. “About those three someones… I’m dying to know more.”
“Dates.”
Her eyes went wide, and she inched back. “All three? At the same time?”
“Whoa. It’s not what you’re thinking.” He held up his hands defensively, chuckling. “I signed up for a dating service, a matchmaker. She’s lined up a trio of candidates. They were each supposed to come out here individually to meet with me, to see my ranching lifestyle and decide if it’s off-putting. It’s not for everyone.”
Her gaze flickering away at the mention of ranching not being for all, she wriggled her toes in his overlarge socks. “A matchmaker. Seriously?”
“Plenty of people sign up for online services. I opted for the matchmaker because of lack of time.” Absolutely the truth. And he found a certain sort of…practicality about having an expert match him with someone with similar interests. It saved time rather than meeting scores of women socially and trusting fate to somehow work out his future.
Her forehead furrowing in confusion, Esme leaned slightly forward. “Why do you want to have a girlfriend if you don’t even have time to look for one?”
Well, that was easy enough to answer. “I don’t want a girlfriend. I want a wife.”
